my held breath fills the room with blood
hurting in ways I can't describe
She knows that his past is riddled with scars, some of them that she will never ask the history of. Though she had only known his love in passing, she at least recalls the woman in her youth that had captured his heart. Remembers that he lost her, has perhaps lost more since that moment whose names and faces Hotaru will never know. Despite this, he still seems almost godlike to her. Perhaps that is a bleed from her childhood when he had been the indestructible King of their lands, the one that had always been so controlled and unaffected, a level of ruling that she could never hope to achieve. Even knowing him so much more intimately now Hotaru can't help but envy his stoic veneer, his well-guarded heart that she is so privileged to reside within. She knows that though he strikes against others with the ferocity of his perpetuated apathy, he is a mountainous shelter to all who gravitate towards his depths like helpless stars. Does he know how much warmth he puts into the world despite its attempts to drown him, to snuff him out? She longs for that strength, for the ability to move beyond these crippling blows that bleed her out from the inside, where nobody can see and only she can feel.
The shift of his weight draws her attention as he comes closer, and her hand helplessly descends to try and grip at his. It's a painful, hollow parallel to how she had clung to Sunjata while recalling the most gruesome nightmares of her past. But here there is more than just a line to keep her tethered to earth. Here there is softness, understanding, a mighty shield that descends upon her on all sides, an offering to keep her sheltered beneath him until the tears have dried and her strength returns. It is far more than she deserves for having fallen so far over one foolish man who never deserved the entirety of her worth and love, but she has already impressed her selfishness, and so she soaks it up.
Her breath is still unsteady, a riotous rebellion that she can't conceive of controlling in this moment, but at least she manages to lift her gaze to his as he speaks. Lips that smile are still tinged with tears and alcohol, but they lift pitifully at the edges nonetheless. "I'm far better than some half-child midwife," she jokes, but it's soft and half-hearted at best. Her face crumples soon after, though at least she has the pride to not dissolve into tears again, feeling far too scrubbed raw to pile that upon her shoulders in a display of further weakness. "That's why it hurts so badly. I offered so much more, didn't I? So why wasn't it me?" An answer he likely won't have. Neither of them can speak to Sunjata's mind or motivations. But she has to ask it nonetheless, lest it poison her where she keeps it bottled up in her chest.
"What do you want to do?" It is the greatest validation he could offer her, the kindest redirection of her grief, and her eyes grow sharp and predatory. The instinctive response is to make him suffer, to grind him beneath her heel in some shallow attempt at making herself feel better, more powerful for having destroyed him. Still, she hesitates. In their night together she had said he had suffered enough, and she still believes that. Can she do that to him?
Yes. She can. Because Hotaru is not nice. She is a tempest, and she had let him tame her for a few nights, and that was her own mistake. But he is even more of a fool than she thinks if he deems to compare her to the pathetically soft midwife he has married. "I want him to hurt too," she hisses, her pulse beating heavy in her throat. "I don't care how brief. And then I want to move on." How, she isn't sure. She still can't help but envy Deimos and Amalia, Rexanna and Bastien. All the other lovers she has encountered since her life in Helovia. There may be nobody here for her, but at least she can try to put Sunjata out of her head.
The shift of his weight draws her attention as he comes closer, and her hand helplessly descends to try and grip at his. It's a painful, hollow parallel to how she had clung to Sunjata while recalling the most gruesome nightmares of her past. But here there is more than just a line to keep her tethered to earth. Here there is softness, understanding, a mighty shield that descends upon her on all sides, an offering to keep her sheltered beneath him until the tears have dried and her strength returns. It is far more than she deserves for having fallen so far over one foolish man who never deserved the entirety of her worth and love, but she has already impressed her selfishness, and so she soaks it up.
Her breath is still unsteady, a riotous rebellion that she can't conceive of controlling in this moment, but at least she manages to lift her gaze to his as he speaks. Lips that smile are still tinged with tears and alcohol, but they lift pitifully at the edges nonetheless. "I'm far better than some half-child midwife," she jokes, but it's soft and half-hearted at best. Her face crumples soon after, though at least she has the pride to not dissolve into tears again, feeling far too scrubbed raw to pile that upon her shoulders in a display of further weakness. "That's why it hurts so badly. I offered so much more, didn't I? So why wasn't it me?" An answer he likely won't have. Neither of them can speak to Sunjata's mind or motivations. But she has to ask it nonetheless, lest it poison her where she keeps it bottled up in her chest.
"What do you want to do?" It is the greatest validation he could offer her, the kindest redirection of her grief, and her eyes grow sharp and predatory. The instinctive response is to make him suffer, to grind him beneath her heel in some shallow attempt at making herself feel better, more powerful for having destroyed him. Still, she hesitates. In their night together she had said he had suffered enough, and she still believes that. Can she do that to him?
Yes. She can. Because Hotaru is not nice. She is a tempest, and she had let him tame her for a few nights, and that was her own mistake. But he is even more of a fool than she thinks if he deems to compare her to the pathetically soft midwife he has married. "I want him to hurt too," she hisses, her pulse beating heavy in her throat. "I don't care how brief. And then I want to move on." How, she isn't sure. She still can't help but envy Deimos and Amalia, Rexanna and Bastien. All the other lovers she has encountered since her life in Helovia. There may be nobody here for her, but at least she can try to put Sunjata out of her head.
my heart bends and breaks
so many, many times
HOTARU
